i swore i’d stop writing about you
three poems ago. i swore i’d stop
hurting myself but i’m bleeding again.
i swore i’d move on and not look back
but i almost called you last night.
i never swore i’d delete your number.

where did you go?
what drove you away from
late nights smoking in my room?
you’d always play my guitar.
but only knew the beginnings
to most songs; i still
tried to sing along.

i’ve been drinking again and
it’s not your fault. *** washes
away the scars you left and
keeps me from thinking
about all the flaws you
could have been running from.

i’m hanging up this line for good.